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Telling

When I went into school the next day my eyes were still rimmed red, my normally coated face going makeup-less for once. I managed to avoid Heather for the whole morning, but not the curious stares and the “You ’kay?”s.
I spent my morning peeking my head around doors before passing through them and hiding in toilets. My lunchtime consisted of constant reading in the library, one place it was unlikely for her to be if what happened happened.

But after lunch it was History, my lesson with Jacob. I minced into the room and sat in my usual place until he slouched into the chair next to me. I started to gather my stuff.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Can hardly stay here, can I?”
“Why?”
“Last night?” I widened my eyes at his obliviousness.
“Nothing happened.” His eyes diverted from mine to the floor. “I couldn’t-” he stopped himself and I didn’t want to hurt him, no matter how much I had wanted to last night.
“Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

“Heather’s in hospital.”

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